


makeshift happy heart

by Chibimun



Category: Board James
Genre: Awkward Flirting?, I AM AN UNCONTROLLABLE FORCE, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Identity Crises, Minor Spoilers but in the cryptic board james way, Supernatural Elements, elements that are psychological but not exactly horror, minor descriptions of body horror mostly because of a nightmare but also just some guy, yall remember the old hurt/comfort genre?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibimun/pseuds/Chibimun
Summary: Board James has a nightmare. Bad Luck Bootsy is awake. Life has its own way of working out.





	makeshift happy heart

**Author's Note:**

> i only truly exist to push the jootsy agenda. listen to surburban soap bleas, the man that plays blb has the worlds most golden set of tones.

James couldn't sleep. He didn't like to go outside, but when he couldn't go to sleep, he tended to find himself there. The fresh air was supposed to do wonders for you!

But, it never did.

It was windy out, but he wasn't deterred by the cold breeze. He never really wore anything despite his hat, short-sleeved shirt, and shorts (maybe jeans, if it was _really_ cold out) combo anyways, so he had grown somewhat of a tolerance. Thick skin, cold hands.

He sat on the porch and stared at the grass, a flickering bulb above his head giving him little to work with. It mostly stayed off when it flashed, and cast a dull yellow shadow a few feet in front of him. He stared at the grass. He watched it wave quietly in the wind, watched as the moonlight cascaded over the lawn and the adjacent street.

James said nothing. He didn't exactly emote at all, really. There was nobody to talk to. There was nothing. An empty street, an empty house across the street, and his own empty lawn.

Of course it had been a nightmare that was keeping him up.

He despised his uncanny ability to fall asleep, wake up, and not sleep the rest of the night. Though he usually felt like he needed some kind of interaction during these kinds of nights, he didn't like the idea of bothering anyone about something as stupid as a "bad dream". That, and the last time he had needed someone over this late, it became something he no longer wanted to think about.

In his dreams he had felt the sickening beat of his own heart as he stood over...something. Someone. It was woken up from under him, so many mouths _screaming_ at him, eyes _staring_ at him as they budded through the mass of doughy flesh, and it had wrapped its hands around his throat and _screamed._ After he had woken up, he had felt as if he needed to die right there.

So, with no friends to do anything with, and no other way to calm down that he hadn't tried, he sat, and he stared at the grass.

And he sighed.

His finger traced a pattern along the gritty concrete of the porch. A spring-like coil around the pinched top of a loop. He felt nauseous, so he stopped drawing.

Loneliness hit him like a sack of bricks. He tapped his fingers, trying to occupy his mind with something better, but it was no use. His hands were too shaky for any game he could play by himself to be played satisfactorily. His head was far too unsteady in the first place. The grass wasn't _working._ He didn't want to call anyone this late, but if he had to do it, if he _had_ to, if the sickening feeling in his gut wouldn't stop until someone came over...

Out of his three-person circle, the person most likely to be awake and reachable (besides himself) was Bad Luck Bootsy. The last time Mike was awake, something bad had happened, but Bootsy's late-night record was surprisingly clear. Well, more so, it was empty. He sat there for a minute, pondering if it was really worth it. On the admittedly heavy chance that Bootsy was asleep, he'd either get no answer or wake him up, which he didn't want to do. On the other hand, it was _Bootsy._ If he came over and just...messed something up, it might just make everything _worse._

"Oh well," He said out loud, making up his mind as he slowly got up from his spot to go inside. He took one last look at the moon before he opened the door and stepped through the threshold.

He didn't run on any of the lights, considering it was _his_ house, and he was fairly used to the layout. He simply walked to the kitchen, where his phone laid on the table. He picked it off the receiver and dialed the familiar number: _555-5309._ He did it fast, despite the dim natural lighting. He half-hummed a little song as the dial tones sounded. _"Bootsy, don't change your number,"_ He mumbled. _"555-5309-"_

He jumped, cut off by a yawn through the receiver. _"Nyello?"_ Said the sluggish voice of Bootsy. "Who's on the line?"

"It's me," James paused. "Me being, Board James."

Bootsy seemed to light up a little bit. "Heya, James! What's got you ringing me up at this unholy hour?"

He dodged the question. "Were you...asleep?"

"Mm, almost!" Bootsy chuckled. "It's fine, I wasn't really tryin' to, or anything."

James winced. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't need to call. You can get back to that."

There was a pause from the other side of the line. "Somethin' wrong, James? This doesn't sound like you."

"I'm..." His face screwed up in irritation, before he took a deep breath. "...fine." He answered, tiredly.

"I see," The other man said, with a mirth in his voice. "Listen, do you want me to come over?"

He thought about it for a second. Bootsy was offering, so really, it should be okay, right? He was already second-guessing his own (admittedly very rushed) decision to call in the first place. What if something bad happened while he was here? What if he got hurt? What if he didn't want to come? The idea burned a hole in James's stomach, so he just squeaked out a "yeah" anyways.

"I'll be over as fast as I can get there, then. You'll have to excuse me if I'm late, recent incident."

_Click! Beep, beep, beep..._

James sat there for a second, letting the whole thing sink in. "That was...surprisingly pleasant," He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he placed the phone back in its cradle. He ran a hand through his dark, greasy hair, as he silently sat in the dark. Now that the "invitation" part was over, what did he even want to do? He hadn't thought this far ahead. He usually invited company over for games, but never really anything else. He _could_ set up a game, yes, but once again, _Bootsy._ That wouldn't do anything positive for his mental health. That, and the thought of playing anything, even with another person, had his head swimming.

It was a miserable feeling, the wait. Bootsy was always late to things, but usually Mike was there to entertain. Now, there wasn't anything. Cabinets with a very small amount of bowls and plates. Empty cabinets collecting dust. Almost barren drawers, with little amounts of silverware. Drawers filled with little knickknacks.

A knife clattered down from across the kitchen, rattling onto the tile. James whipped his head to stare at it, but he didn't have much of a reaction. A frown was plastered on his face. Not angry, but more so upset. He felt like there was a clawing at the back of his brain, some basic, missing instinct buried within some clump of dead tissue in the nooks and crannies of his skull. He blinked, and it (the knife, not that raw, on-guard feeling) was gone. Maybe, it had never even happened.

He held his head in his hands, elbows planted on the table. James tangled his pale, odd fingers into his hair, which was growing a little longer than it should without maintenance, nails digging into his scalp. He needed to get a haircut. Maybe tomorrow. He stared down, expressionless. Antsy, he turned to look at the microwave's clock. What time was it?

"2:13 in the morning," He mumbled. "Of course. Couldn't have chosen a better time to go absolutely nuts, huh?" He chucked at his own snark with listless, unfocused eyes. He remembered some older story about the witching hours, probably told to him by some long-forgotten friend of family member. He loved those kinds of things, after all. Spooks and such charmed him, horror really stole his heart! The black and white classics were specifically his favourites.

After seemingly hours of reminiscing, James's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door squeaking open. He jumped, staying silent.

"Hello?" Called a lighter voice. "James, you better not be asleep!"

James relaxed at the sound of his friend's voice, making his way to the entrance. In the dim room, he could barely see Bootsy's figure, lit up by only the faint moonlight. Without thinking, James poked Bootsy's shoulder from behind, who reacted about as well as you'd expect.

 _"Y-YOW!"_ Bootsy yelped, jumping. James, startled by Bootsy being startled, jolted in surprise as well.

"Hey, calm down! It's just me!" He flicked on the lights, holding his hands up so Bootsy could see them. The other man was still physically disgruntled.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people in the dark, yannow," He dusted himself off. "It's rude! And kinda spooky."

James laughed it off. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Bad night."

"Bad night?" Bootsy questioned. "D'you have a bad dream or somethin'?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," James coughed, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry for callin' you over so late. Mike's probably tired of me after last time and...I don't know, I just felt like, I needed somebody here?" He felt stupid saying it out loud, but he talked too fast to second guess himself.

"Ah, I getcha!" The other man smiled. "Really, it's no problemo, my fellow game _ein-thoo-zee-owst,_ " Bootsy gave a mock salute, making James give a small, weak laugh in response. "As your friend, consider me here to help. Now, are we heading down to the basement to play, or are we sitting on the couch?"

James scratched his neck, frowning. "Uh, about that...I...don't really feel up to playing anything right now. Whole idea's making my stomach hurt."

Bootsy stared at him in surprise. "Something's _really_ shaking you up, huh? Considerin', you know, the whole fact that i's your _name_ thing an' all..."

James, _Board_ James pulled a face. "Well, people can't live up to expectations all the time. Like, you aren't... _always_ bad luck to have around."

The other man frowned. "My full name isn't _"Bad Luck Bootsy"!_ That would be dumb!"

"Huh?" James was puzzled for a second. Was that not normal? His name was _Board James._ Mike's name was _Motherfucker Mike._ Bootsy's name was _Bad Luck Bootsy._ Those were their names, right? "Then what... _is_ your name? Just Bootsy?"

Something stirred in the other man's eyes. "No...let me think..." His voice dropped to a more serious tone.

"What? You can't remember your name?"

His response was almost hollow. "I'd never thought about it 'til now, but...hm..." He sighed and made a face. "All I can get is "Frank". If _that's_ my name, I'd rather be first name "Bad", second name "Luck", third name _anything."_

"Aw, c'mon, Bootsy," James yawned, quietly ignoring that Bootsy just said "first name", "second name", and "third name". "I mean, there's tons of cool Franks. Frank Reynolds, Frankenstein--"

"How are _either_ of those people cool at all?!" He wailed comically. "Though, I guess if I were a monster, I might be Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein's monster," James corrected instantaneously. "But I'd think you'd be more of a zombie."

"If it were anybody but you saying that, I'd take it as an insult," Bootsy grinned. As a friend (or just due to James running his mouth about odd trivia bits), he was aware that he loved classic horror movies, but he carried a special affection towards zombie flicks.

"You can still take it as one," He smirked. "Trust me, I won't mind."

The two of them shared a laugh, eventually settling down on the living room couch. The laughter died down, leaving them surrounded by the simple, muffled sounds of the night for a few moments.

"So, can I ask what rattled you so bad?" Bootsy piped up, cocking his head. "I understand if you'd rather not tell or anything, but if it was bad enough that I'm here at like, two in the mornin', I'm a little worried."

James tapped his fingers on the couch, idly. "Well, a nightmare really spurred it off. I just felt, you know, lonely."

The other man seemed intrigued. "What kinda dreams are you havin'? I haven't dreamt anythin' rememberable for...well, as long as I can remember," He scratched his head.

"Well, there was this thing," James shrugged. "It was like...a bunch of people were stuck together, in this fleshy thing. Big monster. And there were all these _faces._ They were yelling at me, they were all givin' me the eye," He had a grave look on his face. "And there were all these _hands_ coming out of it, and it was," He rubbed his neck, wincing. "Choking me?" His eyes were dull. "When I woke up, I felt like I should've just..." James trailed off, looking drained.

"Jeez, that's, uh," Bootsy grimaced. "That's rough, James."

"I guess it takes a lot to shake me."

They sat there for a bit, Bootsy taking a look around. He hadn't ever really been in the living room before. Usually, he'd only been to the basement when he had been here. The usual "game room" was at Mike's, so they didn't even spend a lot of time in the basement, anyways. "I don't think I've ever seen this part of your house before," He popped his neck, trying to start another conversation. "It looks nice."

James scratched the back of his hand. "Thanks, I guess. I don't really do anything that could mess it up, so I just have to dust sometimes. Low maintenance."

"Dust?" Bootsy smirked."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James didn't seem to find it funny.

"Ah, it's just, like...It's funny to imagine you doing anything besides playing board games, sometimes. I don't really dust, myself. Don't do a lot of housework at all."

"I've never been to your house," The other man replied, Bootsy sparking a curiosity in him. "Maybe we could get together there sometime."

Bootsy quirked an eyebrow. The way he said that had seemed _off_ to him, somehow. James was looking off to the side, a small, but not angry or upset, frown on his face. He wasn't used to seeing James as _lost_ as he looked. It was strange. "Do you...want to come over to my place soon, then?"

James whipped his neck around to stare at Bootsy with wide eyes. Why did this all seem so odd? They had both been to Mike's together a hundred times, and had the occasional hangout in his basement. Maybe, it's because there hadn't really been a moment with just _them_ before...the thought interested James more than he felt like it should.

His mind started getting to work. Truth be told, he had wanted to spend more time around Bootsy for awhile now. Sure, he was kind of a jinx, he fucked everything up, he sucked his own dick, etc., but it's not like he wasn't a pretty well-meaning guy most of the time. It was weird for James to see someone with good intentions, considering he didn't have a lot of experiences with it.

Something stung in his heart. Something odd.

"When none of us are busy," He coughed. "It might be nice to see the Bootsy-cave."

Bootsy snorted. "The _Bootsy-cave,_ huh?"

James's face turned a little red, looking away. "What? You live there. It's your space."

"Well," Bootsy smiled. "It was cute."

James choked on his spit. He hoped Bootsy couldn't see the wide-eyes look on his face. He gripped the sofa, trying to think of what to say, but nothing came to mind.

He jolted as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" _Was_ he okay? Why was he acting like this? What was even going on? His heart was pounding, and it felt like his _ears_ were red with how hot his face was.

"Don't...call me that," James cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact. He felt Bootsy's soft gaze on him, and it drove him mad. "You don't need to stare at me, either. I'm fine."

"Sorry, then," The other man said, in a light tone. "You've dealt with enough tonight, I guess. I don't need to tease ya."

There was a stagnant silence in the room. James swore he could hear white noise seeping through the dull walls. He hated that emptiness, so he started thinking. And of course, like everything, all his thoughts led back to  _Bad Luck Bootsy._ Why was he so out of it tonight? Why was Bootsy making him so damn flustered? James had called  _him_ over, and yet James was the one stuck in place, frozen because Bootsy had called something he did, called _him,_ _"cute"._

 _...Bootsy_ had called him _cute._

Wheels started spinning. God, did he have a _crush?_ Did he, _Board James_ , have a _crush?_ He couldn't pin down why it felt so odd for him to be "head over heels", considering that by all accounts he was a perfectly normal guy, and love was a perfectly normal thing, but _jeez,_ was he _really_ all shook up because of _this?_

He mentally wrote down a "yes", because he very much _was_ all shook up because of this.

The farther he searched back into his patchy memory, the more the pieces started to fit together. Though Bootsy had a habit of messing things up, James continued to invite him over. Mike was disappointed, yes, but that was his own personal issue. Why had he kept Bootsy around? A feeling of fondness. He certainly hadn't _needed_ to keep him around, as many board games didn't require any more than two players, but Bootsy was to stay nonetheless.

James's heart pounded. His legs felt weak, even though he was sitting down. Wow. James really _was_ crushing, _hard._

But now, Bootsy was here. Bootsy was here, he was here, they were _both_ here, and they were _alone._ James gathered his wits, giving out a silent prayer to a god he felt might be closer than heaven, shining luck on him. He wasn't thinking slow enough, but that was fine. If he had taken a minute to doubt himself before, he wouldn't have this opportunity.

"...Bootsy," James said, curtly. "I would like to...talk about something."

Bootsy gave him an odd look. "Okay," He yawned, and the other man's heart skipped a beat.

"I've been thinking recently," The word _"tonight"_ flashed through his his head. "And I feel like I should get this off my chest while we're both here in one place," He stopped, but his mouth kept going out of nerves. "And both here in one piece."

There was another awkward pause, as James quietly laughed (with absolutely no humor) at his own "joke", and Bootsy made no response to it at all. "Go on, then."

"I...think I might like you?"

The room went dead once more. James felt like wringing his own neck.

Eventually, Bootsy answered, frowning slightly. "Well, I'd hope you'd like me by now. I thought I was one of your best friends!"

It took everything in James not to snatch a couch cushion to scream into. Did he just hear that? With his own ears? And was that _dumb_ line _really_ making him blush?  _Really?_

"No, no," He shook his head and his hands. "I mean, I think I might... _like_ you," He felt like a child. His face burned.

Bootsy took another hot minute to register. Every millisecond was painful, as James found himself unable to even look close to Bootsy's face for more than a few seconds at a time.

Jesus fuck, he was really doing this. He was really  just belting out a confession the _second_ he got his feelings sorted out. Was he a goddamn _madman?_ Something scratched at his throat, in a way that said, _"probably"._

His face was white hot and beet red as he looked away to some poster on the wall. _Night of the Living Dead,_ his favourite movie. He squeezed the edge of the couch in a shaking vice grip as he stared straight through the promo artwork.

He was snapped out of it by the feeling of a warmer hand on his cold one. Normally, he would've jerked his hand away but he found himself unable to move. His hand went limp as Bootsy curled his fingers around it. As the other man held his hand in his soft, clumsy grip, James felt like he was living for the first time.

"James," Bootsy spoke, and it sent pins and needles down his spine. "Y'know I, wouldn't exactly mind it if you happened to..." He paused, tapping the couch with his free hand. "...like me, and all."

James closed his eyes, feeling brave. He turned around to face Bootsy. Clearing his throat, he opened his eyes. "Bootsy, would you be willing to try something?"

The other man scratched his head, blushing. "Like what?"

"Going out," He felt like there were stars in his eyes. "We could leave for a day or a night and do something, or I could just come over to your house, or you could just come over to mine. We could do anything. We could eat, we could watch movies, or we could just talk, like we are now. Could we try that?"

"James, I think what you're trying to ask me for is a date," Bootsy looked a little surprise, the pink tint on his face growing darker.

James's face, on the other hand, was already a deep, crimson red. "So what? Would you wanna go with me, Bootsy?"

His heart was pounding in his chest. He could feel a bold warmth rushing through his body, stopping dead before his fingertips. Hope flooding his mind, the adrenaline keeping him from running miles away to never be found again, an itching of familiarity in the back of his skull.

Bootsy gripped his hand tighter, and he almost smiles. And then Bootsy said, "I would love to go out of the town with you, James," and he did. He didn't just smile he _grinned._ He grinned with his stupid gap-teeth and his stupid, simple happiness. His cheeks burning from the blush and hurting from his glee. He closed his eyes and hugged Bootsy the best he could with one free arm. He didn't want to let go of the other man's hand, feeling it's warmth run through his body.

He heard Bootsy laugh, and for once he felt joy in the oppressive, mocking _noise_ he usually despised, because he could tell Bootsy wasn't laughing at him. He _could_ laugh at him, yes, but he wasn't now. He was happy. They were _both_ happy. He never realized how angelic Bootsy was when he was this happy. Maybe it was because he was so used to him being the "ditzy annoyance" rather than, well, whatever he was to James starting tonight.

Hell, he started laughing too.

He opened his eyes for a moment, but jolted slightly as he saw a blob of orange in the corner of his vision. He didn't move. There was a man standing in the doorway to the other room.

James would've said that he was staring at them, but the man didn't have a face. He didn't have eyes to stare. He only had a long, tangled mass of oil-black hair, and an orange jumpsuit with some kind of smeared-up name tag patched onto it.

"I know you," James whispered. "Don't I?"

Flesh separated on the blank face to form a mouth, with a set of chapped lips and a gap between the two front teeth. The dry, raspy voice of the intruder simply said, _"No point in warm hands around a cold neck,"_ before he turned around and walked away.

James guessed, from the sound of Bootsy's happy humming, that he hadn't noticed their visitor. In a few seconds, James forgot the mystery man had ever existed. He had much better things to think about, after all.

They stayed like that for a bit. Bootsy would start humming a tune and James was dead silent until he'd finish it. And then, he would start another tune, and the cycle would repeat. Bootsy had a wonderful voice. James heard him singing a lot, mostly those little joking jingles of his, but it still managed to sweep him off his feet.

God, he was in love, wasn't he?

Yeah, he sure was.

Really, hours must've passed with James's head rest on the other man's shoulder, because next thing he knew, Bootsy had started telling him to wake up. As he realized where he was, a blush came to his cheeks. He parted from Bootsy on the couch, and suddenly felt a little colder.

"Well, I hope you're feeling better," Bootsy smiled, yawning.

"Of course I am," James yawned back. "I mean, y'know, I just..." His face turned a darker shade of red. "I mean, didn't you just agree to go on a date with me?"

"Oh!" Bootsy shot up. "We should probably decide what day that is."

He scratched his head. "Uhh...Tuesday good for you? I know we're set for games tomorrow, and that might go on for awhile. Gonna get a haircut before that, though."

"Day after tomorrow sounds great," The other man yawned. "Should we decide what to do later? I'm tired as hell," He chuckled, smiling.

James smiled back. "Yeah, we'll figure the rest out int he morning. I think we both need some rest."

Bootsy snorted. "Says the man who just spent about a whole hour sleepin' on my damn back!"

"Stop bein' so comfortable, then!" James laughed. "You said you were bringin' a game tomorrow, right?"

"Oh yeah, I've found like, 15 copies just laying around my house recently, so I might as well bring one for game night."

 _"15?"_ James's eyes went wide.

"Yeah," Bootsy winced. "Haven't exactly counted, but man, there's a lot of 'em."

"Well, uh, you better get back to bed, man. The sun should be coming up soon."

Bootsy grinned at him, slowly standing up. "I'll see you later then, Board James."

James would've tipped his hat, but he opted for an invisible hat-tip from his position on the couch instead. "Until we meet again, Bad Luck Bootsy."

It wasn't until Bootsy was almost out the door that James had realized he had forgotten something. "Wait a minute!" He jetted off the couch.

"Huh?" Bootsy yawned again. "What's up?"

"I, uh...forgot to give you something."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I forgot something here? Where is it?"

"No, no, no," James blushed. _"You_ didn't forget something, I did."

"Well, that's new. What is it?"

"This."

James pressed a sot kiss to Bootsy's cheek, nervously fiddling with his own hands. Bootsy froze. "I figured since we're going on a date soon, I should probably, uh, do that," He scratched the back of his head.

Bootsy kissed him back, holding his hand delicately once more. "Thanks, then," He smiled. "I love you, James."

"I love you, Bootsy."

The door closed behind him, and James was left alone in his house again. He didn't feel alone, though. He felt _warm._ For maybe the first time, he really felt "at home" in his old house.

He made his way up the stairs to his bedroom, set on having better dreams. He caught a glimpse of his beside clock.

_2:13 AM_

"Good," He mumbled,  mind hazy from the night. "Plenty of time for me to sleep."

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed! this took a very long time, but it was nice


End file.
